Plum Decisive
by Love-el-ly Joy
Summary: With severed body parts, a crazed squirrel, and her mother pressuring her to make a romantic decision, it's clear that Stephanie must do something - FAST. Will she choose Morelli or Ranger? And with the squirrel thing: hair spray or Mace? T for violence.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Okay. This is a multi-chapter story. I don't actually have a great track record of finishing those, but...I actually have a firm idea of where I want this to go, so hopefully that'll help me finish it some. So this is my first Plum story. I guess since none of you people reading this have ever read any of my other stuff (probably), I guess I'll tell you a little about myself, 'cuz I'm cool like that and I can write it in an Author's Note. Anyway, here's something that might make you go away...CUPCAKE FOR THE WIN! I love Morelli. I love Ranger, too, and I love him and Stephanie together, but not...TOGETHER together. That said, that doesn't necessarily mean she's gonna pick him, so HA. Only I know, at the moment. This tales place...probably after the sixteenth book, because I haven't read the seventeenth book yet. Therefore, if any of this happens to go down in the seventeenth book, PLEASE. DON'T. TELL. ME. I don't want to know. I want to read the book myself. Wow, this is a long A/N. Long A/Ns fail, but they're kind of awesome at the same time. Anyway, on with the show! Oh, and about the title, I couldn't come up with anything else. If you have any other ideas, please suggest them to me, because I want a different title. xD Oh, and I also haven't read any of the between-the-numbers books except for Visions of Sugar Plums and the first half of Plum Spooky. I don't plan to read them, because they're dumb (except for Diesel. As far as I know, Diesel's awesome), so feel free to let me know if I did something from one of those books._

_Plum Decisive: Chapter One_

When I was in eighth grade, I couldn't, for the life of me, grasp quadratic equations.

For reasons unbeknownst, I'd been placed in the advanced Algebra class. I guess it had something to do with the fact that, in Jersey, if you can tie your own shoes, you're considered a genius.

So there I was, pretending to understand what the heck the FOIL method was and what aluminum wrap had to do with Algebra. And yet, I didn't fail my tests. It wasn't that I got better at solving quadratics, per se. It was more that I got better at cheating and had freaking amazing luck.

Seventeen years later, I'm a bounty hunter for Vincent Plum Bail Bonds, and, to me, the job was a little like the quadratic equations I'd struggled with in junior high.

Norman Fisker had been originally arrested for DUI, but was being formally charged with carrying a concealed weapon. Now, seeing as how this is Jersey and _everyone_ carries concealed here, I normally would've felt bad for the guy, but he'd skipped his court date, and now he was standing between me and the $400 I needed to pay this month's rent.

I'd gone to school with Norman. He lived on the street where I grew up and where my parents still lived in the Burg, a middle-class, working-folks neighborhood in Trenton. As far as I knew, he was a good guy. Most of my memories of him were fond - big games of Tag and Red Rover with the other neighborhood kids, and stuff like that.

I figured as long as I was here, I could bum lunch off my parents. Since I was hungry and it would be really awkward to bring an FTA to my parents' house, I decided that was my first stop.

My car was "in the shop," (translation: I couldn't afford one on my current budget) so I was driving the powder-blue Buick that usually lived in my parents' garage. The monster was great for bringing in FTAs, with its giant, benchlike seats, especially if my sort-of partner Lula was along for the ride, but, as far as I was concerned, was about useless for everything else.

My mother and Grandma Mazur were waiting for me on the porch when I arrived. Apparently, they both had some sort of internal Stephanie Positioning Satellite, and they always knew when I was coming. It'd be great if I had that for when someone was stalking me, which was a good portion of the time, but whatever. That's what a cop boyfriend and a once-lover who owned a personal security company were for.

"Stephanie!" Mom exclaimed when I stepped out of the Buick. "Mindy Florez e-mailed me and said you and Joseph got engaged at Pino's last night."

The Burg had recently discovered the Internet, and most of the tattling-on-Stephanie-Plum had transferred from phone calls to e-mail.

"Morelli and I were _discussing_ marriage. As far as I know, we're not engaged." At least, I didn't _think _we were. I'd been pretty drunk, and there was really no telling what Morelli had gotten me to agree to.

"Stephanie, you good looks won't last forever. Maybe you should be focusing on discussing a _date_ for the wedding before Joseph decides to find someone younger."

I rolled my eyes. "First of all, I'm a whole two years younger than him. Second, Joe's like...a whole new breed of Morelli. He's not like that." I pushed past my mother and went into the house. "Hey, Dad," I called. He responded with a quick nod and a mumbled "Hey." _The Godfather _was on.

"I have some nice lunch meat from Gioviccinni's," _(A/N: Is that how you spell it?) _my mother said. "Roast beef and Colby Jack cheese."

"Do you have any dessert?"

"There's half a chocolate cake left from last night. You can take it with you when you leave."

Sweet. Dinner. No pun intended.

Mom made me a sandwich, and I sat down at the kitchen table to eat it. In the Burg, breakfast and lunch are eaten at the kitchen table, and dinner in the dining room. Always. In my apartment and at Morelli's house, breakfast and lunch are eaten over the kitchen sink, and dinner on the couch in front of the television. Sometimes.

"Mom, do you know if Norman Fisker is home?"

My grandma was the one who replied. "Elsie Nockert told me at the beauty parlor that Norm was going to Jamaica to try some of that pot business." Elsie Nockert was Norman's uncle, so she could probably be trusted to know that sort of thing. Besides that, she was a busybody, so she would probably know anyway even if he weren't her nephew. "That was over a week and a half ago, though, so he might be back now."

Great. Norm went to Jamaica to smoke the chronic and I was out $400 until I could bring him in.

I finished my sandwich and stood up. "He's FTA. I need to go check and see if he's home so I can bring him in. Can I have that cake to take home, now?"

Mom opened the refrigerator and handed me a plastic circular cake box. "Bring it back when you finish. I need it to bring the pineapple upside-down cake for your father's reunion next week." In Trenton, all events are potlucks, including high school reunions. "Please try not to get in the paper today."

"I'll try." I stepped out the front door and went down the porch steps to the Buick. Stepping in, I muttered to myself, "It's gonna be one of those days."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: So...didja like it? Didja? I'm guessing you did, since you're reading this right now. Unless you hated it and you're like me and you just want to see it to the end. But I like to think of myself as unique, so I'll just be optimistic. And don't forget...reviews make me happy, which makes the story better, so...review, review, review!_

_Canon Changes: For the purposes of this story, Stephanie has long hair. I can't do the...thing in this chapter with her hair being short._

_Plum Decisive: Chapter Two_

I moved the Buick down a few houses and stopped in front of Norm's house. There was a car in the driveway. I took that as a good sign. If his car was out, that probably meant he was back from Jamaica.

I got out of the car and approached the door, ringing the bell. After about a minute, I rapped my knuckles on the door and called, "Norm? It's Stephanie Plum."

The door swung open. "Stephanie Plum? Hey! It's great to see you! What can I do you for?"

Norman looked exactly the same as he always had: lanky brown hair, moss-colored green eyes, slightly pudgy body. He wasn't thoroughly unattractive, but he definitely wasn't a Joe Morelli.

I handed him my card. "I'm an enforcement agent for Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. You missed your court date, and I need to take you to reschedule."

Norm's cheeks turned cherry red. "I missed my court date? But I had it written in my calendar and everything. I thought it was...oh, yeah. I see. I'll come down with you."

I loaded him into the backseat of the Buick. I more or less figured Norm wasn't going to try anything funny, but you never knew. I figured I didn't have to cuff him, either, but I did, anyway, just as a precaution. You never knew with people.

"Sorry for making you come all the way out here. I really didn't know I missed my date."

"It's okay. I had an excuse to make my parents feed me lunch. And, besides, this pays my rent."

"That's good. At least me missing my court date helps _somebody_."

I looked down at my pocketbook on the seat next to me...and realized there _was_ no pocketbook on the seat. "Crap. I left my bag at my parents' house. This'll just take a minute." I backed into a driveway and turned around, heading back into the Burg.

I guess I could've taken him down to the station and then gone to get my pocketbook, but in my experience, being completely unarmed in Trenton, especially if you're me, is a bad idea. Therefore, the pocketbook trip was almost completely necessary.

"I'm locking you into the car. Stay here. I'll be right back."

Mom was standing in the hall when I walked in. "I left my pocketbook here. I just need to grab it and then I'll be on my way."

Spotting the bag on the kitchen table, I grabbed it and walked back out to the car. I climbed in before realizing that...

...the car was silent. Something was off. I turned around.

No Norm.

Just a big red spot that I was really hoping was Kool-Aid. And an angry-looking squirrel.

The squirrel and I stared, sizing each other up. And, suddenly, before I had a chance to react, the thing launched at my hand, tangling in my hair. It scratched at my scalp with its claws, probably getting who-knows-what in my hair. Finally, I managed to pull it out. It jumped out the open window. Fine. No complaints here. I had enough issues, having just lost an FTA, without adding an insane squirrel to the equation.

I kept a box of Lysol wipes in the glove box for occasions just like this one. I wiped down the plastic-covered backseat. Without looking at my hair in the mirror - no reason to upset myself even more - I turned around and drove to Morelli's house, two things on my mind: shower and hairbrush.

Morelli was home when I got there. Great. Just my luck. He got to see me in my current a-squirrel-attacked-my-head state.

I unlocked the front door and walked into the kitchen, where Morelli leaned against the counter, eating a sandwich. He stopped for a minute and silently looked at me. Finally, he said, "Cupcake, what happened to you? You look like a squirrel tried to make a nest in your hair."

I felt tears spring to my eyes. "That's - _exactly_ - what - happened!" My tears turned into full-fledged sobs.

Morelli came over to me and wrapped his arms around me. "It's okay, honey. It's fine. Do you want me to run out to the store and get some detangler?" I didn't reply. "It'll be okay. It's not even that bad, honestly. Just different. Just tell me what you want me to do. Do you want me to call that guy at the mall and get you an appointment?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Call Mr. Alexander and get me an appointment. In the meantime, I'm gonna take you up on that detangler thing, too. If I can do it myself, I won't need him to cut my hair."

"Okay. I'll just go to the drugstore and get you some of the stuff. Just wait here until I get back."

Morelli grabbed his car keys and walked out the door. I watched him out the window. Just as I'd suspected, as soon as he thought he was far enough away from the house, he exploded into laughter. I had to smile. After all, it _was_ pretty funny. This kind of thing would never happen to anyone other than me.

While I was waiting, I checked the messages on my phone. I already had one from my mother. "Stephanie? It's your mother. I couldn't see very well, but it looked like there was some kind of scuffle in your car earlier. Also, would you and Joseph like to come for dinner tonight? I have a nice roast chicken and pineapple upside-down cake. I know that's your favorite. I'll make an extra one for you to take home."

Clearly, my mother was going to try to bribe me into something tonight. Why else would she make us an extra pineapple upside-down cake? She always just made one and then gave us the leftovers to take home. Which I'm not complaining about. Cake is cake. But she never made us our own cake.

I called her back. "Hello?" Mom answered.

"Mom, it's Stephanie."

"Oh, Stephanie. Did you get my message? What happened in your car earlier? It looked almost like there was a squirrel attacking your head..."

"That was nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Are you two going to come to dinner tonight?"

"Yeah, I think we will. Joe might now want to come, though; he's at the store. I'll ask him when he gets home."

"All right, honey. I'll - Mother! Sorry, I have to go keep your grandmother from shooting at the garbage truck. They just dumped Macy Brown's trash can over. I'll see you later." And the line went dead.

An hour later, after a long, hot shower, I felt a lot better. I'd actually managed to get all the knots out, and now I was back in business.

"What're your plans for the rest of the afternoon?" Joe asked when I walked downstairs.

"I've got a couple FTAs I can work on. And I'm meeting Ranger at two to help him with one of his FTAs."

I could see Morelli trying hard not to say anything about the Ranger thing. He'd gotten much better about not having a spaz attack whenever I said I was going to see him, and I appreciated his effort a lot. In return, I tried to help him by not bringing it up too much. I waited patiently for him to work through it.

"And then we're going to your parents' for dinner?"

"Yup."

"Fun day you've got planned."

"Ranger's FTA should be...interesting. From what I've gathered, I'm gonna be bait."

"Be careful.

"I'll try."


End file.
